


picking you up at the international terminal feels domestic

by froggieyama



Series: rarepair week 2020 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (canon), Airports, Canon Compliant, HQrarepairweek2020, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Character Death, Secret Relationship, professional athlete kageyama tobio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggieyama/pseuds/froggieyama
Summary: the words 'i love you' have never left akaashi's mouth, but he lives and breathes them every day.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kageyama Tobio
Series: rarepair week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720423
Comments: 7
Kudos: 126





	picking you up at the international terminal feels domestic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mobpsycho100](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobpsycho100/gifts).



> this fic is so loosely connected to the prompt but hey i tried
> 
> (also fits in my letters to kageyama series)
> 
> gifting it to my lovely editor mobpsycho100 bc she's the one that has to wrangle my nonsense into proper fics

Picking you up at the international terminal feels domestic.    
  
Maybe it’s the way your hard glare softens when it falls on me. Maybe it’s the way you collapse into me even though you’re not supposed to, how you always make me take your suitcase as we walk. Maybe it’s the car ride home, you dozing off in the passenger’s seat halfway through a story. 

Or maybe it’s because I know what’ll happen after. You’ll take a long shower and pretend you don’t want me to join, feigning disinterest as I wash your hair and knead out the knots in your broad shoulders. I’ll hold you for a while, pressing my face into your neck, and then maybe I’ll kiss it.

You’ll thread your fingers through my hair, letting them tangle themselves in the curls. You’ll say something about needing to brush it more, I’ll pretend I can’t hear you. 

We’ll crawl into our tiny bed in our tiny flat, they never pay you enough, and I’ll worship the touch of your skin against mine until I’m too tired to. You’ll make me forget everything I’ve ever worried about. It’s not important. Not when  _ you _ occupy my every waking thought.

Sometimes I catch myself, almost letting your name tumble out of my mouth in the same sentence as the word ‘boyfriend’. Sometimes it hurts.    
  
Sometimes I dream of a day when I can pick you up at the international terminal and kiss you, gentle and slow. Sometimes I wonder how much longer you can keep yourself hidden.

Sometimes you call me and you seem so tired, as if you have the world to carry on your shoulders, and I wonder if you feel you have to. Sometimes I wish I could tell you how I feel. Sometimes I say it in the mirror, pretending the reflection that stares back at me is you. Sometimes my voice gets caught in my throat, clawing and clawing but stuck under thousands of words I’ve yet to say to you.

I’ll pick you up tomorrow. I’ll kiss you tomorrow, either at the airport or as soon as we stop at a traffic light. I’ll hold your head in my hands like I’m cradling the world, because I am. I’ll watch you as you fall asleep in our bed, the stress seeping from your shoulders and sinking in the mattress until you rise from it again. I’ll tell you I love you, in my own way. 

I’ll press our foreheads together in the dark, bodies warm in the cold of our room. I’ll get lost in those eyes like I always do. I’ll admit that I’ve missed you, but won’t say I love you; you more than anyone understand that love is a fickle thing but trust is more sincere. I’ll say something into your skin. I’ll feel it prickle under my warm breath. I’ll remind myself of what it means to have you. 

When you get home, I’ll make breakfast for you. A whole plate full of your favourite things. Maybe it will wake you, maybe it won’t. Regardless, the smile that will form on your face, so small and yet infinitesimally meaningful, as you compliment my food speaks louder than words ever will. We both know it’s a way of expressing that I love you.

When you get home, I’ll take you to visit your grandfather’s grave. Often your truest confessions come when you are laid bare, speaking to him as if he was the one who could hear you. We’ll find a nice spot, somewhere warm in the autumn sun, and we’ll watch the clouds. You’ll point up at them, finding shapes in the mindless blue, and I’ll nod even though I don’t understand; can’t see the world through your gorgeous eyes. I’ll guess what one cloud might mean, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and I’ll wish that the words that came out of my mouth were a confession.

When you get home, I’ll kiss you until I’ve sucked the air out of your lungs and left you gasping, eyes dark with desire. You’ll say my first name, syllables falling off that pretty pink tongue as if they are the only ones you’re meant to say. I’ll run my hands down your chest, feeling the ripples with my once-calloused fingers, your own reaching up to settle into my hair. Slipping lower, lower, until your back arches and you  _ beg _ . The noises that follow will be as close to an I love you as I’ll ever have gotten.

When we’re older, finally comfortable in our own skin, I’ll take you back to Saitama, where it all began. We’ll kiss, slow and gentle. I’ll kneel in front of you and pull something from my pocket. You’ll look at me as I swallow heavily, opening my mouth to say four words that have taken a lifetime to muster.

“I love you, Tobio.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!!


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